The Various Lives of Puckleberry
by Lolzers
Summary: A set of drabbles revolving around Puckleberry. From coffee shop mishaps to 19th century England Highway drama this set of outtakes really will cover them all! Rating may become M over time.
1. Java The Hut

A/N: Hi y'all! So... I've decided that I can't keep starting new stories and then taking forever to finish them. However, it is really hard to stop myself from showing you guys new stories that have taken my interest and distracted my muse. So this is my solution! I'm going to upload all my random drabbles and parts of fics I hope to one day work on under the title of this story "The Various Lives Of Puckleberry". If you hate the idea then let me know. It was just a thought. That way I can know which one of these (if any!) you'd like me to continue working on and turn into a multi-chapter fic. Also, these are all going to be Puckleberry based.

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It was a bright spring afternoon in New York City. The sky was a clear azure that the bustling inhabitants of the city of dreams would long for during the smoggy summer heat. As the crowds relatively thinned out after the lunch hour rush, a short Irish boy was seen pushing past elegantly dressed business people as he waved an envelope in the air excitedly. He sprinted across the street and three yellow taxi cabs screeched to a halt barely missing him. Horns blared and angry cries echoed around the busy street as Rory pushed open the door of 'Java the Hut'. The rickety bell above the door jangled and he scanned the crowded café for a familiar face. He spotted the Mohawk first; as usual his friends had claimed the cluster of mismatched loveseats and armchairs in the far corner. He hurried over and threw himself down onto his usual faded green ottoman. He grinned broadly, brimming with excitement, at his four friends. Sam threw him a grin and went back to explaining the concept of The Hunger Games to a very bored looking Quinn. Puck nodded his way before going back to what he had been doing when Rory arrived- calling the waitress over repeatedly. Santana snapped the heavy textbook in her lap titled 'Criminal Law in the state of New York: Cases and Commentary' closed and glared.

"Puckerman, I swear to God, if you don't stop calling her over here not only will you get her fired but I will crush your balls." Her perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up challengingly and tilted her head towards him "I'm not even joking. Finals are coming up and I am a woman on edge."

Puck snorted "go to a fucking library then." He turned and leaned over the back of the loveseat he was occupying to wave the waitress over. "Yo, waitress, can we get some service over here? I wanna order today you know."

The waitress's shoulders visibly tensed before she threw the cloth she'd been wiping down the tables with on the counter before spinning around to face Puck. Her steely brown eyed glare zeroed in on the mohawked sophomore of NYU before she stomped towards him, her short black miniskirt swished against her thighs with every step she took. She folded her arms across her chest and raised a single dark brow.

"Noah, you can't just sit here all day everyday making me get wait on you hand and foot. Eventually you are going to run out of money and I assume that would have a rather large impact on your social life. Don't you think?" Rachel asked sweetly.

Puck shrugged and pulled out his wallet "Rach, making you do shit for me is so worth it."

Rachel stomped a small ballet flat clad foot against the floor and pouted "Noah you're being ridiculous! This is a _serious _job. I need the money if I want an off-campus apartment next year!"

Puck grinned lecherously up at the short brunette "and I promise to leave you a very serious tip if you wear a shorter skirt tomorrow."

Rachel scowled and smacked the back of his head before turning to the others. She whipped a notepad from the small green apron tied around her waist and pulled a pen from the loose bun on top of her head. "Can I get you guys anything?"

They placed their orders and before long Rachel was handing out steaming mugs of coffee, cold glasses of refreshing iced tea and plates of fresh muffins. She skipped over to another table and Puck watched her skirt kick up a little with every step she took.

Sam snorted once he'd spotted what exactly had held Pucks attention for so long and took a long gulp of coffee. He spluttered and gagged. "Oh _God_! W-what …ugh! It tastes like something _died _in my mouth!"

Puck laughed and swallowed a mouthful of his own black coffee, wincing slightly.

Quinn pulled a disgusted face after sipping her iced tea. She daintily pushed the glass away from her and shook her head, her blonde pixie crop swaying about her face. "Whatever about iced tea, but how does somebody mess up making coffee?"

Puck frowned "hey, she's getting better at it."

Sam pulled a horrified face as he stuffed half a muffin in his mouth, trying to replace the taste of dead animal with bran.

Rory spluttered and coughed after a mouthful of tea "my God, how bad _was _she?"

Santana smirked into her muffin "_bad_…really, really bad. For the past two days during Rachel's shifts he's been watering that plant there with her indigestible coffee." She jerked her head at Puck and then nodded at the rather withered looking fern in the clay pot beside Puck's seat.

"We have to tell her, it's our duty, before she poisons anyone else" Sam gasped after hazarding a sip of Quinn's iced tea.

Puck growled and leaned across the low coffee table, levelling a menacing glare at his friends "listen up, nobody is telling her nothin' okay? I'll pay for all your fucking drinks if you all just pretend they were great or whatever. Capiche?"

Quinn grimaced at her beverage before chuckling "and what are we supposed to tell her when she sees we haven't actually drank anything?"

Puck scowled "she won't _see_ that because we are going to throw the drinks in there" he raised his eyebrows at the dejected, drooping fern. Only two days of Rachel's coffee and the once tall leafy plant was really starting to show the effects of the hazardous beverages.

Rory dried to prevent his smirk from broadening "uh, Puck? I think the wee plant's going to die of food poisoning before Rachel can make a real pot of tea."

"I'll fucking buy Ben a new goddamned plant! Just pretend you like the stupid drinks!" Rory watched as Puck bravely struggled through half his cup of coffee before slyly tossing the rest into the large clay pot.

Rachel appeared just then and sat on the loveseat next to Puck. "So how're the drinks?" She looked expectantly from one face to another.

Puck threw an arm over Rachel's shoulders and grinned at her "great! _Right guys_?" He glared at each of them in turn. After the initial awkward pause they all began to jump in with their wholly positive feedback. Santana just smirked and opened her textbook once more.

Rachel frowned slightly "that's so weird…all of my other customers have been complaining. I thought maybe there was something off with the coffee…" she bit her lower lip and then glanced at her friends faces once more "but you guys think it's okay?"

Puck grabbed his mug off the table and held it upside down "see Rach? All gone. It was perfect."

Rachel beamed up at him, her eyes sparkling. She leant against him for a moment before sighing "no rest for the wicked. Will I see you guys at The Red Door later for karaoke?" She raised her eyebrows enquiringly at each of her friends.

Rory couldn't contain himself any longer. "I just met the love of my life!" He blurted out in his lilting Irish accent.

The entire group groaned in unison and rolled their eyes.

Rory shook his head "no really…this time I mean it! She is a freshman too and she loves my accent. I invited her to come out with us tonight."

His friends looked despairingly at each other before Puck slid his arm from around Rachel's shoulders and held his fist out to be bumped. "Alright lucky charms! Can't wait to see the freshman tail you caught." He waggled his eyebrows at Rory.

Rachel tutted and slapped Puck's chest before getting to her feet and making her way to a table of new customers.

Puck was leaning over the back of his seat watching Rachel as she laughed and joked with the elderly couple that had just sat down. He loved her laugh. He caught himself smiling at the sound. He sunk back down to face the others and met Sam's gaze.

"Dude, you are so whipped."

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A/N: And there you have it...the first of many! Thanks so much for reading and remember, let me know if you want me to expand on any of the little outtakes you'll find here. I love getting feedback from you guys! :D


	2. Legs

A/N: Hey everybody! Aw, I'm so glad I got such a great response over my last drabble/ idea/ musing/ excerpt/ who even knows? Thank you all for your lovely feedback! I am just about to launch into what are meant to be the most important exams of my life so...yeah, obviously writing fanfiction is the logical thing to be doing right now! :P I just wanted to relieve some stress visa-vis Puckleberry musings. Although, now that I mention it... this one is not big on romance. My idea for the full version leads to lots and lots of romance but in this excerpt they've only just met and well, you know, while in an ideal world Puckleberry would just rip each others clothes off and have at it the second they laid eyes on each other, I felt I had to create some suspense! Anyways, I really hope you guys enjoy it! Thanks for reading! :D

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Rachel dropped her blackberry. It clattered across the hardwood floor and the back flew off and skittered under the couch as Rachel gaped at Puck from across the room.

"I'm sorry, what do you _mean_ you 'have no reception up here'? H- How is that even _possible_?"

He shrugged his broad flannel clad shoulders and turned back to stoking the fire. "It means what it sounds like. Cell phones and internet don't work up here." He jabbed at a particularly gnarly log and growled "and that's the way I like it!"

Rachel felt her brain shutting down. Being trapped in a helicopter with a dead publicist and an insane, gun wielding pilot she could deal with. A helicopter crash she could handle. Watching her favourite Lulu Guinness clutch along with most of her most precious designer clothes going up in a terrifying inferno she could manage. Stumbling through a frozen wasteland looking for help she could survive.

But no connection to the rest of the world? No way of knowing what was happening in New York at any given moment? N-no lovely fan mail? No Broadway? She started to breathe shallow fast, gasping breaths, clutching at her throat. Oh God, no twitter? She sat down on the large, faded couch and shoved her head between her legs wheezing.

Puck watched warily from his place crouched by the now crackling fire. He could hear her murmuring "…dead…Broadway…music…coffee…oh god…Starbucks…" she whimpered "…Community." She groaned into her lap "what if Jeff and Annie finally get together and I miss it?" She sat up and gasped "Oh God, what if I never get home? They'll think I'm dead! I mean, the helicopter crash, they'll all think I'm dead! Oh God what will my Dads do?" Her voice rose an octave with each new worry and it wasn't long before she shrieked "Barbara? Oh what will Barbara _do_? How will she _survive_ without me?" She turned to look at Puck, with abject horror in her eyes "am I dead? Did I die in that helicopter crash? Did the pilot shoot me? Am I in hell? Is there no internet in hell?"

Puck couldn't take anymore. He hadn't built himself a cabin in the Rocky Mountains just so that he could have his peace and quiet disrupted by a shrill midget with anxiety problems. No matter how hot the shrill midget was. Jesus H. Christ the chick was wearing his clothes, she looked ridiculous and yet at the same time he'd love to shut her up by fucking her senseless. He'd clearly spent too long alone He sighed and scrubbed a large calloused hand over his face. "Look, ya gotta just relax okay?" He moved back from the hearth and placed the clothes rack draped with Rachel's damp clothes in front of the crackling flames. "What with you almost being blown into a million pieces of fucking shrapnel and all I think not having any internet connection is probably the least of your concerns. Now, your clothes are gonna be dry soon and we'll see what the snowfall's like. Hopefully I can take you down the mountain before nightfall." He more than fucking _hoped_. This Rachel chick had been wrecking his head from the moment she'd turned up on his doorstep crying and raving about an exploding helicopter and some guy with a gun. The sooner she was back down and off his mountain the fucking better.

She sniffed dejectedly and tucked a damp tendril of hair behind her ear. She looked and felt ridiculous in this lumberjacks ridiculously large flannel shirt and long johns (which were the only pants he had that even sort of fit her, and even then she felt they were entirely too baggy, beggars couldn't be choosers though she supposed.) She glanced around the rustic cabin. It wasn't completely medieval. He had some appliances from what she could make out. His shower had been amazing and he had a television set. So his problem was obviously with the communication side of technology…weird. Who didn't love communicating? She shrugged to herself and continued to let her gaze rove around his home. One wall was lined with guns of various shaped and sizes. Rachel shuddered, her vegetarian heart hoping he had never actually used one of those abominations. Her curious stare landed on a shelf filled with vinyls and a guitar propped up in one corner. She turned to find this 'Puck' man watching her intently. She raised her eyebrows at him in excitement and nodded at his guitar "you play?"

A smirk flitted across his lips before he shrugged "sorta… keeps me occupied when the weathers bad."

She despaired of him. Trying to have an actual conversation with this man was like trying to draw blood from a stone. She nodded and then stood up from his surprisingly comfortable couch. "So, were you raised by wolves?" She demanded, irritated by his complete lack of interest in anything. Seeing as she'd just been held at gun point which ended in a helicopter crashing into the side of a mountain, she really thought they'd have _something_ to talk about! "How does somebody end up living alone in the mountains miles and miles away from civilization?"

He barked out a dry laugh before taking their now empty mugs from the coffee table and heading towards the kitchen. "No, no wolves, just regular people." He called over his shoulder, by ways of answering her first question.

She got to her feet and tromped across the hardwood floor in his too-big work boots. Folding her arms in the doorway of his kitchen she raised her eyebrows questioningly. She was about to ask what exactly his problem was with 'regular people' when she heard a distant humming noise coming from outside the cabin. She frowned "do you hear that?"

Puck straightened from where he had been stooping to retrieve a beer from the fridge. He tilted his head and the frown that really had never left his face in the short time Rachel had known him only deepened. He moved past her and towards the living room windows muttering something about 'snowmobiles'. The humming noise grew louder before stopping altogether.

"There's two snowmobiles parked outside. The guys riding them are armed." He turned back to look exasperatedly at Rachel. "What do you want to bet they're lookin' for you?"

Rachel clapped her hands together and hopped about doing a strange little dance that caused Puck to cringe. "I knew somebody would come to save me!"

Puck watched as the two men climbed off their top of the market snowmobiles and saunter towards his cabin. "I wouldn't be so sure about that Legs. These guys don't look the rescuing type." The taller and broader of the two strangers was talking into a walkie-talkie while the shorter one was flicking the safety catch off his gun.

Rachel's cheeks flushed as she stomped a heavy boot clad foot. "I sincerely hope, for your sake, that you did not just call me 'Legs'! And besides _Puck _you really can't judge a book by its cover. I'm sure these gentlemen will be more than willing to rescue me!" She huffed and moved for the door just as a loud knock came from the other side.

Puck lunged across the room towards Rachel, catching her around the waist just before she managed to turn the latch on the front door. He none too gently pushed her against the wall behind the door and clamped his hand over her mouth before cracking the door open ajar.

The two men frowned at Puck who glowered back "the fuck you two doin' on my property?"

The shorter of the two had a white scar that sliced through his left eyebrow and reached all the way to his chiselled jaw. He snorted and replied "you don't own the Rockies man."

The taller man glared at Scarface before turning to Puck. "You seen a girl out here? Short, brunette, got a…Jewish nose?"

Rachel began struggling against Noah's hand, trying to break past him and embrace her saviours. She _knew_ somebody would be out there looking for her!"

Puck however pinned her against the wall using one hand and tried to make it seem natural to the two morons on his doorstep. Although the tall one seemed not so moronic as his gaze zeroed in on the way Puck's left shoulder seemed to be moving about an awful lot. Puck narrowed his eyes at them and demanded "who's askin'?"

Scarface piped up "just a friend of hers. We were all climbing out here and she managed to get lost. You seen her?"

Rachel paused mid-wriggle and pursed her lips against Puck's roughened palm. _Friends of hers?_ She didn't have friends that snowmobiled around mountains. Not unless they were in Aspen on break or something.

Puck nodded understandingly and then shook his head. "Nah man, I never seen nobody up here. Good luck finding her though." Puck was closing the door when tall, dark and smarter than Scarface shoved a black combat boot between the door and its jam.

Einstein raised a single dark eyebrow at Puck and asked "anybody else live with you that might have seen her?"

Puck sighed and pressed harder against his front door. "No, I live alone. Which is the way I like it so do you think you could fuck off and go question somebody else? If I see your friend I'll tell her you were lookin' for her."

Einstein just narrowed his eyes at Puck calculatingly before nodding and removing his boot from the doorway. Puck slammed the door in their faces and turned his head to glare furiously at Rachel. "The fuck is the matter with you? You almost got murdered twice today; wanna make it a third time?"

Rachel widened her eyes at Puck and blinked "those men were _not_ my friends…"

He pulled a sarcastic face at her before retorting "oh no shit Sherlock."

She pouted angrily at him but he barely even noticed as he stormed back into the kitchen. "What are we going to do now?" She demanded as she trailed after him.

He ran a hand through his close cropped hair and sighed "I dunno… You just had to wriggle like a fuckin' snake didn't ya? They definitely copped I wasn't alone."

Rachel's pout only deepened as she folded her arms and glowered at him "you are incredibly crass, you know that, right?"

Puck smirked for a split second about to inform Rachel that 'crass' was his middle name when a crash could be heard from the living room. They both rushed in to find that one of the windows had been smashed. Puck swore like a sailor as Rachel tried to interrupt him.

Finally, Rachel shouted _"PUCK!"_ He turned to frown at her but she was too busy pointing at a sleek, black cylinder with a countdown timer attached to it that was sitting amongst the shards of broken glass on the hard wood floor. "I know I'm not as well versed as you apparently are in weaponry but…is that…a-"

Before Rachel could even finish her sentence her right arm was nearly yanked out of its socket as Puck dragged her through the kitchen and out the back door before jumping and landing in a huge snow drift. Before they had even landed in the thick pile of icy snow there was a deafening explosion from behind them and Rachel felt an intense heat burning the air behind her.

After they had caught their breath, they sat up in the snow and Puck took a moment to just watch as his pride and joy, his oasis, his home was reduced to rubble and smoke. He then turned to Rachel and stated "_this._ This shit right here, Legs? _This_ is why I don't like people."

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A/N: So... yeah... I just wrote a fic drabble type thingy with explosions. Winning! Ha. But no, seriously, if it was awful, I can take it. Love to hear from you guys and thanks for reading! :)


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